


pas de deux

by goldminegoldmine



Series: ace jongin [2]
Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Aromantic, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldminegoldmine/pseuds/goldminegoldmine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pas de deux  (<i>n</i>). <i>french</i></p><p>1. A dance for two consisting of an entrée and adagio, a variation for each dancer, and a coda<br/>2. A close relationship between two people or things</p><p>-</p><p>autochorrissexual/aromantic jongin and his relationship with taemin over the years</p>
            </blockquote>





	pas de deux

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in the same universe as [mama called you baby center stage](http://archiveofourown.org/chapters/7772753) and takes a deeper and more comprehensive look at taemin and jongin's relationship, their identities, and how they work together. feat. ace relationships and taemin/jonghyun as very functional friends with benefits

Taemin’s phone wakes him up in April.

_taeminnie?_

_taeminnnnn are you up_

Jongin usually goes to bed earlier than he does. Taemin texts back, _i’m up why are YOU up_

_can i call you?_

Taemin sits up and turns on a light, squinting against it. He hits call instead of waiting. Jongin answers on the first ring in a whisper.

“Hi.”

“Hey. What’s wrong?” It’s not unheard of for Jongin to call him in the middle of the night but it’s rare, and it’s usually not for no reason.

“Ahh I’m okay. I’m just…”

Taemin waits. Jongin slows down to half-speed when he’s serious.

“I’m scared.”

Taemin remembers this feeling from this moment. Four years ago, when he was about to step out onto his first stage. The fear, the what-ifs: what if I fuck it up, what if they hate us, what if I’m not good enough, what if this doesn’t work out. He can hear it in Jongin’s voice, his uneven breathing.

“Meet me outside?” Taemin asks softly, knowing that he can’t convey over the phone the reassurance Jongin needs.

“Okay,” Jongin says in his quietest voice, and hangs up.

Taemin makes it out of the dorm easily, stuffs his hands in his pockets and hides himself in a small patch of trees at the edge of the property. With eleven others to tiptoe around, Jongin takes an extra two minutes. It's spring but it's late and Taemin shivers, wraps his arms around himself, and waits. Jongin knows where to find him.

Jongin has never been a nervous dancer. Insecure, overzealous, sometimes reckless, but never nervous. He’s never been opposed to crowds. He can focus in on himself, turn and emerge like someone else.

But the way he hangs his head as he walks across the lawn makes him look scared. Every bit as young as he is and then some. He doesn’t greet Taemin when they meet, just bumps against him, not quite looking him in the eye.

They find a spot to sit and press against each other, shoulder to shoulder.

“Why are you scared? Maybe if you say it out loud it’ll help,” Taemin offers after a minute of silence.

“You were scared too, remember.” Jongin’s voice is in its low sulking tone.

“Yeah, I remember. It was okay, though.”

Quieter, Jongin asks, “How did you do it? You were this scared, how did you get through it without messing up?”

“What are you talking about? I totally messed up.”

Jongin scoffs. “Yeah, right. You were perfect.” He doesn’t look at Taemin, and Taemin nudges him with his shoulder a little, just to get a twitch of a smile.

“I messed up but it was okay. I got through it, it was fine. You’ll be fine, Kim Kai, you’ve practiced.”

Jongin sighs, unconvinced.

“Plus, if you fuck up no one but me is gonna notice.”

He finally laughs. Taemin grins, stands up and offers his hand.

-

When they met, Jongin was barely past thirteen. Taemin, too, but there was something particularly young about Jongin’s guardless laugh and the way he sat cross-legged on the floor. They said hello to each other, briefly. They were both nervous. They ended up staying close to each other all day long.

Jongin was a rough and tense little boy in his dancing, quiet and soft anywhere else. He told Taemin reluctantly that he’d been doing ballet since he was a baby, and it was apparent in the way he danced. With every fiber of his being focused on expelling the classicism from the movements of his limbs. He flexed his feet and moved heavily on purpose.

“I want to dance like you, Taemin-ah. Your dancing is so cool,” Jongin said one day with a note of surprise and wonder in his voice.

He never asked Taemin to teach him. Not really, he was a little bit too proud for that and a little bit too shy, but he’d watch Taemin’s movements, follow them with his eyes and then with his body. Eventually, Jongin started asking questions. It felt odd to give instruction to someone his age, but Jongin took his advice with a smile and a nod every time.

“You shouldn’t try to make your dance look different than it is,” Taemin told him once. “Just dance like yourself, stop trying so hard.”

“What do you mean stop trying. The whole point is to try hard.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Like, I try _not_ to try hard, I just do what comes naturally and it works better. You’re trying too hard,” Taemin gestured vaguely at Jongin in his baggy sweatpants and beanie, flushed from dancing with no break.

“If you’re so much better than me, why don’t you go home,” Jongin spat back, quickly. “I’ll stay, I obviously need the practice.”

Taemin didn’t know how to explain. That Jongin’s slowly mixing blend of ballet and modern and hip hop was special, like nothing he’d ever seen before. That he just wanted Jongin to stop hiding it.

He couldn’t find the words, so he didn’t say much of anything. Instead he just stayed. Practiced halfway into the night until Jongin was too tired to censor the little bit of ballet in his movements and Taemin’s limbs stopped listening to his brain.

“It’s late. You should go back,” Jongin said, not looking at him.

“I’ll go back when you go back,” Taemin countered, making sure to meet Jongin’s eyes in the mirror.

He stayed until both their bodies were slowing and they couldn’t dance anymore. Until they laid their stretching mats out side by side on the studio floor and closed their eyes.

-

Five years later, EXO debuts.

Taemin counts the differences. When Jongin walks, his steps are a little longer. His posture is less classical and straight, like he’s let some of that instinct back into his dancing and out of his spine. His shoulders slump. His hair is lighter than it used to be and there’s a coat of makeup over his skin. He looks taller.

“Taemin-ah!”

Taemin has folded a finger down for each difference, but he uncurls his fist to wrap an arm around Jongin.

“Look at you, playing with the big kids now!” Taemin fluffs up Jongin’s hair and gives him a smirk that might fall too fond.

Jongin laughs, rests his head down against Taemin’s.

“Shut up, Juliette.”

-

They spend more time apart after that. It’s different, even, from when SHINee had just debuted; then, Taemin was moving around but Jongin was always in the same place. They’re crisscrossing now, each always somewhere different.

During training, their friendship quickly became a constant one. It was based on a twenty-four hour schedule and it took on those qualities. They ate together, slept together, danced together, sang together even, unintimidated by each others’ voices. Able to play off each other and grow.

Now their intersections are sporadic at best, too brief and too spaced out.

They develop friendships outside of each other. Jongin has eleven other people to learn now, relationships to prioritize, dynamics and choreography to refine. Taemin has a steadying and solidifying net with SHINee, something that’s beginning to feel indestructible and permanent. They branch out.

They grow.

Where Taemin stays small and narrow, Jongin gets bigger. Suddenly, Taemin’s eye-level is at Jongin’s nose and Jongin’s arms and legs are filling out with automatic muscle, their years of practice changing him a little more than its changing Taemin.

They make time for each other. Sometimes they go out for lunch and spend an hour longer than they should sitting across the table from each other, talking and talking. Sometimes they’ll take a walk, though it sounds cheesy when Taemin says it out loud it’s nice, slowly walking, sometimes in silence, their shoes making sounds in patterns.

Their first day together after several months finds them back in the studio. They don’t dance together much anymore, but when they can, they do. They feed off of each other’s energy and talent.

“One more?” Jongin asks when he sees that Taemin is packing up his things. He’s shaky and disheveled, but he’s poised like he could dance forever.

“It’s late,” Taemin says gently. “We should sleep.”

“I’m gonna do one more.” Jongin has that stubborn little boy spark in his eye. The determined set of his shoulders hasn’t changed at all.

But Taemin has been trying to stop running himself into the ground. He’s slowly broken himself of the habit, stopped forcing himself to dance until his muscles unraveled. He’s realized that he can be the best dancer he can while still _being_. He sleeps now, as much as he’s allowed. Knows that his schedule will wear him out enough, doesn’t need to add to it. He doesn’t need to break himself.

Watching Jongin frown at his feet in the mirror, doing the same step over and over, skipping back to the beginning of the track again, Taemin can see that Jongin hasn’t been able to leave that mindset behind. Jongin looks the same as he did when they used to dance themselves into exhaustion. He looks so tired. It makes Taemin want to shake him.

“Come on,” he says firmly instead. “You’re leaving with me, come on.”

Jongin doesn’t even pause, just shakes his head at Taemin in the mirror.

“Come the fuck on, Jongin, don’t be stupid.” Taemin shuts off the music, ignoring Jongin’s whining and drags him outside, still in his tank top and dripping with sweat.

“Why are you being like this?” Jongin whines. “What happened to practicing all night? We used to have fun.”

Taemin’s still got Jongin by the hand. “You can fucking sleep, Jongin, you don’t have to kill yourself. I haven’t spent the night in the studio in years, I can’t believe you still do this.” He tugs on Jongin’s hand and Jongin stumbles. “If you’re too tired to walk, you shouldn’t be dancing,” Taemin says.

“I need to –“

Taemin cuts him off. “Shut up. You don’t need to.”

“But –“

Taemin stops, turns and shoves Jongin a little so his body bows and he slumps heavy against the wall.

“No,” Taemin says firmly. He catches Jongin’s eye and holds onto it. He wraps a hand up around the back of Jongin’s neck.

“Do you do this a lot still? Stay here all night?” Taemin asks gently.

“Not… not every night, I –“ Jongin’s voice has an edge of defense to it.

Taemin tugs sharply at the ends of his hair, interrupting him again. “You’ve gotta stop.”

“You can’t tell me what to do. You used to stay with me, remember? You do the same thing.”

“Do you think I would’ve stayed if you hadn’t wanted to? I wouldn’t have stayed by myself. I don’t do that anymore.”

“But I need to practice. I’m still learning, there’s so much to –“

“You’re great.”

“I’m not. There’s so much I have to work on.”

“Just listen to me, okay?” Taemin raises his voice a bit. “You’re fine. You’re a beautiful dancer. You’re the best one up there, okay, I promise. I know there’s always more to work on but you can take care of yourself at the same time.”

Jongin deflates a little. He slumps a couple inches closer to Taemin and lets out a long sigh. Taemin keeps a hand on his neck as if he can convey everything he’s thinking through his palm. He wants to retract a little bit of the mentality that he encouraged, all those misguided nights sleeping on the floor.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Jongin sighs again but walks with Taemin, winding an arm around his shoulders and leaning with most of his weight.

-

Jongin has always been a tactile person. It comes with the dance instinct – the way he expresses himself is rooted in his body. It might be the distance or their age, but lately when they meet up Taemin notices Jongin’s touches more.

There’s nothing different about them, but somewhere along the line Taemin accidentally started a mental catalog. Jongin touches his hip to keep him close, his neck to whisper in his ear, his cheek or the under part of his jaw. If he wants attention, if he has an emotion, if he just feels like it, and eventually Taemin figures out that touching Jongin back is the key to his focus. If he touches Jongin’s hand with just the tips of his fingers Jongin will turn towards him.

Maybe that’s always been true.

Maybe the only difference is that now there are cameras, and they pick it up too.

The cameras have changed most things. How Taemin carries himself, how Jongin reacts to stress. Taemin is used to it now after so many years, has a camera smile, keeps little pieces of himself away and safe and lets the cameras and the fans see the rest. It doesn’t freak him out any more, the fact that people are watching. He thrives on it a little, even. It pushes him.

Jongin is different, though, and Taemin finds that this is one thing he can’t quite figure out. He’s so far from that freshly debuted, skittish boy he was. Taemin has done most of his growing up on camera, but Jongin hasn’t. He’s brand new and already grown at the same time.

Jongin has been significantly taller than Taemin for a while now. It makes Jongin gravitate towards the tops of Taemin’s shoulders and the space under his chin. It pulls Taemin up, somehow, he finds himself wrapping his hand around the back of Jongin’s neck to get him to bend down slightly in a noisy room. He catches himself scratching his fingers through the short, soft hair at his nape and liking the way that Jongin focuses down and in on him as if they were still the same little boy height.

He knows that the way they are with each other is a little bit ridiculous. He isn’t like this, usually. Touch isn’t his first instinct. He’ll reciprocate, but with most people he doesn’t initiate touch.

Something about Jongin shifts that instinct.

Jonghyun teases him about it sometimes, calling Jongin his boyfriend, greeting Taemin after he comes back from a day with Jongin, yelling “Taeminnie! How’s your boy?”

Taemin doesn’t even feign ignorance; he’s been asked this question so much lately, ever since there’s now a recording of every hug or every time they hold hands. He can see how they could be misconstrued.

It is unusual. It is special. He knows that.

Jongin doesn’t touch with everyone. He’s quick to react and unapologetic when someone touches him and he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t think twice before smacking a hand off his shoulder or pushing away from a hug.

He’ll smack Taemin, too, if he laughs too hard or if Taemin says something teasing, but he always softens his punches. He’ll come up behind Taemin and jab him in the ribs to make him jump, but then he’ll trail his hands down Taemin’s sides, just for a split second, and laugh.

Jongin is different with him. They’re best friends. Taemin doesn’t mind if people wonder.

He just smirks at Jonghyun’s ‘how’s your boy’ and answers, “He’s good!”

-

Image is integral now. For both of them, their film developing under millions of watchful eyes. Taemin has held onto a little bit of his maknae charm, the smiling boy he debuted as sticking with him as he gets older. What Jongin grows into is different. Jongin’s image revolves around dance and it revolves around sex.

Kai came into existence early. Before he even had the name. Not quite an alter ego but more of a mood, the way Jongin was when he switched on his stage self. The person he shifted into when he danced, turning the choreography’s style inward, learning the movements and absorbing them completely until he could project them as he danced.

Taemin has noticed since the beginning, but it’s only after EXO debuts that the character becomes pronounced. It’s easy to see when Jongin stops paying attention and lets the feeling of Kai take over. It’s easy in the sharp twist of his mouth, his smirk, the way he tilts his chin.  

It’s odd because Taemin has never heard Jongin talk about sex. He dances and it’s readable on his face, but he never talks about it. But watching Jongin in his Kai mood is mesmerizing. He’s growing into the exaggerated character fast.

If Taemin sometimes watches him too closely or for too long, he’s only one of millions affected.

-

Jonghyun kisses Taemin one night. Taemin is hardly surprised.

It’s kind of the way Jonghyun is, incessant with his hands, his propensity for clinging and the open, brash way he does it. A couple years ago he was full of pretense, would smack Taemin’s ass or pull him into a headlock in lieu of a hug, couldn’t translate his feelings into appropriate gestures.

He’s changed, though, has learned to grasp his emotions better, has learned how to touch.

He’ll wrap himself around Taemin when he’s watching TV or falling asleep. Sometimes, even though Taemin is also small, Jonghyun will curl up on Taemin’s lap, making little noises and sighing, content, against Taemin’s sternum.

Jonghyun might come to him like this more often than he goes to anyone else. Taemin hasn’t bothered to dwell on it, though, it’s endearing the way Jonghyun takes the affection he wants. Taemin likes it.

So when Jonghyun rolls into his bed, throws a leg over his hip and kisses him, Taemin is only surprised in the most reactionary way. He’s not surprised by the eager way Jonghyun moves his lips and how his whole body mimics it, like he can’t keep his kiss isolated to just his mouth. He presses completely into and along Taemin, one hand gripping tightly at his hair, his hot tongue moving across Taemin’s bottom lip.

A few days later they’re rubbing frantically against each other in a fully-lit room, and Taemin realizes they’ve started this relationship without so much as a pause for reflection. It’s nice and effortless like Jonghyun’s conversation; it holds weight but it isn’t heavy.

“What do you want?” Jonghyun asks him, his voice slightly breathless.

“I don’t know, but this feels good, so.” Taemin punctuates with a roll of his hips. Jonghyun grins and grinds down.

They’ve come to an agreement.

-

 _We Got Married_ is confusing.

It’s confusing because aside from whatever he has with Jonghyun, Taemin hasn’t really considered this  - romance or dating or whatever it is - to be a tangible possibility in his life. It’s confusing because he’s going through these motions with someone he really does like, and sometimes there are little bursts of moments when it _feels_ real. It’s someone else’s words coming out of his mouth and hers, but there are little sparks of moments when it sounds _real_.

He likes her and he thinks she's pretty and he kind of wants to keep doing this, eating together, laughing, and playing a little game of touching each other in safe places like arms and shoulders and wrists. Nothing real is happening and he’s okay with that, but it’s fun to entertain the notion, the idea that maybe, someday, he might have something like this.

Add Jongin to the picture, though, and the confusion intensifies.

Jongin joins him on set, and there’s something different about it. As soon as the director yells “cut!”, Jongin clamps both his hands around Taemin’s shoulders and steers him across the room, opposite of where Naeun is. Taemin looks up at him, a smirk slowly spreading across his face as he realizes – Jongin doesn’t have anything to say. He’s looking to the side of Taemin’s face, still with a too-tight grip on the muscles between his shoulders and neck.

“What?” Taemin asks, trying not to laugh and almost succeeding. “Did you drag me over here just to stare at me?”

“Shut up,” Jongin snaps automatically. He softens just a millimeter, reaches out with one finger and touches Taemin’s cheek.

Taemin raises an eyebrow.

Jongin flushes and drops his hand. “You had something on your face,” he says with the ghost of a stutter, then turns around and walks away.

Taemin breaks down and laughs at his retreating back.

It happens so many times over the course of filming that Taemin loses count. After their “wedding” when Jongin drags Taemin away from Naeun by the ankle, rougher than he usually is even at his most playful and violent. When they meet up for dinner after Taemin has spent the day filming a lunch date, and Jongin leaves his ankle touching Taemin’s under the table for the better part of an hour, Taemin stuffing his mouth with food trying to hold in his laughter the whole time.

It takes Taemin a while to figure it out.

To pinpoint what’s off, to articulate it to himself. Jongin has been acting in a way that Taemin’s been taught is jealousy. Glaring, jealous touching, possessiveness. He’s so, so possessive, but cluelessly, innocently so; Taemin’s sure he doesn’t know, but there it is. Jongin curling his fingers around Taemin’s neck, little pointed tips gently pressing into his skin. Insistent the way a bird’s chirping is. Keeping him close.

He asks Jonghyun about it. Jonghyun who has a knack for knowing what people are thinking. Jonghyun who’s been actively developing his emotional competency.

One evening while they’re lying next to each other, squished into one single bunk, Taemin brings it up. He explains Jongin’s behavior and Jonghyun doesn’t look surprised until he asks, “Wait, you and Jongin aren’t fucking?”

“No!”

“I don’t mind if you are!”

“That’s nice, but we _aren’t_. I’ve never even considered it.”

Jonghyun hums. “Well, uh. Maybe you should ask him he wants to.”

“Jongin doesn’t want to fuck me,” Taemin says firmly. They’ve been best friends since they were thirteen. Taemin wasn’t lying when he said that he knows Jongin better than he knows himself.

“Are you sure? Because based on what you just told me… physically dragging you away from Naeun? Really? That’s not a best friend’s reaction.”

Taemin sighs. Jonghyun’s right, but about the other thing – he doesn’t know. He can’t imagine it.

“If Jongin wanted to fuck me do you really think he’d be capable of hiding it for this long?” Taemin muses.

Jonghyun hums again. “Good point. He’s not the sharpest, that boy.”

Taemin smacks his chest. “Stop. But you’re right.”

“Maybe he wants you and he just doesn’t know it,” Jonghyun smirks, wiggles his eyebrows.

“Maybe,” Taemin purses his lips. Decides right then that he doesn’t really care; if Jongin wants something he should say something, otherwise Taemin is going to pretend that Jongin’s possessive hue doesn’t throw him off, that everything is normal. Whatever it is, it won’t change them too much. Taemin won’t let it.

“Enough about Jongin,” he says firmly, flipping onto his side. “I’m here to spend time with the person I actually _am_ fucking.”

Jonghyun cackles and Taemin pounces.

\--

They give Taemin a solo project.

When he first realizes that the concept they're developing is a little dark, a little different, and a little erotic, Taemin is excited. It’s the first time he’s been fully allowed to break away from the smiling maknae image. It’s not that he’s unhappy or that he doesn’t identify with it on some level – it’s just refreshing. To change his hair, his wardrobe, his makeup, his choreography. To really use the voice he’s been learning for so many years. To sing things that, for all intents and purposes, belong to him.

He hasn’t been talking to Jongin much, he’s been so busy. Working on the concept and choreography, getting Danger ready, getting Ace ready. His sort of second debut.

They’re shooting the music video, Taemin spending a good chunk of time leaning his head back against a chair made of rubber cord, staring into the camera. He’s been in states of partial dress all day, eyes a little heavier than usual in intensified makeup. He’s on that chair, trying to work the camera as best he knows how, and for some unarticulatable reason he can’t stop thinking about Jongin.

Suddenly, he’s fixated. He keeps flashing, for some reason, on  picturing what Jongin’s face will look like when he looks back over his tapes, picturing Jongin’s reactions to what he’s filming. What his expression will be when he sees Taemin like this, sexual and commanding and a little like Kai.

For some reason, the thought of Jongin seeing this brings a flash flood of blush to him, heating his skin all over. His throat gets dry and catches his fast pulse.

He gulps down half a bottle of water and shakes it away, moving on. There’s more work to do.

-

Taemin decides he wants to do a song with Jongin.

With Kai, rather. It’s something he’s thought about before, and now that he has the chance, he wants to bring Jongin tangibly and memorably into this chapter of his career. Jongin is still new, fairly. He’s still finding his footing, metaphorically. He’s still growing, maybe. He wants this reimagined version of himself to exist alongside Jongin’s Kai. He wants them to perform onstage together.

He tells Jonghyun about it.

Jonghyun laughs loud but his eyes light up. “Fuck yes! This is going to be amazing.”

He grabs the front of Taemin’s shirt with both his fists widens his eyes. “Can I please write the song? _Please_ let me write the song.”

Taemin’s almost laughing too hard to say yes.

Jonghyun delivers, of course. The song is equal parts earnest, cocky, and sarcastic. It’s a little bit sexy, and a little bit superior. It’s so _very_ Jonghyun. Taemin thinks it's kind of perfect.

Taemin has maybe never seen Jongin smile bigger than he does when he tells him about the song.

He thoroughly enjoys watching Jongin blush his way through a first readthrough of the lyrics. But two minutes later he's repeating his parts to himself, trying to craft his voice into a rap that works with Taemin’s singing.

They read-sing it aloud together. Jongin cackles and recites every "p-p-p-pretty boy" with too much insinuation. He turns into a giggling mess with the low and sultry, "feel the way I move".

They start their choreography without meaning to.

-

Pretty Boy means they’re together more often, in the studio more often. This time they’re working equal alongside each other, strategizing and learning their dance and perfecting it around each other. It makes Taemin’s smile almost permanent. It makes his limbs feel light.

He finds Jongin outside the practice room on a Friday, half an hour before they usually start.

He’s curled up smaller than Taemin’s seen him in a while, head back against the wall’s cracked paint, arms around his knees. His too-long hair almost covers his eyes and his bottom lip is gone between his teeth.

Taemin doesn’t speak right away, just makes his footsteps loud so that Jongin can hear him coming, slides down beside him on the floor.

Jongin turns his head a little, releases his lip to smile a tiny smile. “Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hey.” Taemin matches his voice to Jongin’s volume.

There’s a pause, not a long one, and then Jongin says “I’m probably asexual,” and.

“Oh.” That’s unexpected. “Okay, um. Is this –“ Taemin isn’t sure what he wants to ask. It catches him off-guard that Jongin can still catch him off guard. So he just nods and gives Jongin his most sincere smile.

“Okay,” he says again, firmly, keeping contact with Jongin’s eyes in case he wants to say more. Jongin’s processing is very linear – if you wait long enough, he’ll eventually untangle what’s on his mind for you.

“I’ve known for a while – I mean. I’ve thought about it a lot, the way I feel about… that.” He wrinkles up his nose a little. “Sex and dating and stuff.”

He pauses. Taemin waits.

“Like, I’ve never been interested. It’s not… it hasn’t been a big deal, but something in the interview tis morning brought it up and Junmyeon-hyung asked and I explained and he said he doesn’t care if I’m asexual. And then I thought maybe I might _be_ asexual.”

Jongin hasn’t paused for breath, but now he does.

“I’m telling you just because you’re my best friend, I don’t want anything to be different.”

A reflexive flash of uncertainty across Jongin’s face makes Taemin’s chest constrict. He reaches around Jongin’s back with one arm, squeezing the back of his neck gently, sifting fingers through his soft warm hair.

“Nothing’s different, don’t worry.” Taemin’s watching Jongin’s profile for signs of change or ease. There’s no change. He touches Jongin’s cheek with his other hand and smiles. “You’re still the annoying little brat you were when I met you.”

Jongin smiles then, reluctantly, but it gets all the way to his eyes.

-

Soon their choreography is done and they're practicing all day and all night again like they did when they were little kids.

Jongin seems looser with him, comfortable since his confession. He doesn’t restrict his dance as much, lets his body move a little more forcefully beside Taemin’s. He laughs with abandon and doesn't curb his touches. Taemin’s soaring with it, Jongin’s hands on his face almost every time they get close to talk.

Jongin’s instincts have always been fascinating, endearingly odd, and they slightly intensify. Taemin can’t quite stop smiling at him.

“One more?” Jongin asks, smiling his orange slice smile and tugging on Taemin’s little finger. “Then we can leave?”

Taemin nods and takes his starting position. There’s something so satisfying about dancing this with Jongin, this thing that belongs to both of them. Jongin is holding back a little – Taemin can see it in the line of his back, the slightly truncated rolls of his hips. Like he doesn’t want to upstage Taemin, still hanging onto a little bit of his insecurity from before he debuted. Like he can’t quite allow himself to stand on the same ground as Taemin.

Taemin brought it up to him last week. “Stop holding back,” he said.

Jongin flushed and denied it, but Taemin kept pressing and eventually Jongin conceded enough to say, “It’s your song,” in his most stubborn voice. Taemin left it because it was late, and arguing with Jongin was sometimes a lengthy thing.

But tonight as Taemin watches Jongin in the mirror he can see him letting go a little. He starts using his head a little more, and his fingers. His elbows are looser, his back less rigid. His movements are liquid.

Taemin almost loses track of his own part as he watches Jongin, and Jongin almost trips over him as they move for their ending pose. Taemin turns to apologize and sees that Jongin is on the floor, breathing heavy and head bowed. He almost crouches down to make sure Jongin isn’t injured, but then he notices the redness seeping up in Jongin’s skin, and the wet dark patch at the front of Jongin’s sweatpants.

Taemin covers his mouth to stop from making the sound that builds up in his throat. It’s somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. He’s smiling so wide it hurts. He feels a little ecstatic.

It’s the first time Taemin’s ever seen someone besides Jonghyun come, and it’s _Jongin_. It’s _Jongin_ sitting on the studio floor, Jongin who came in his pants just from _dancing_. From dancing with _Taemin_.

He comes back to himself a little and realizes how embarrassed Jongin is; he’s pulled his knees into his chest and he’s squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh,” he says in a tight voice. “Oh my god.”

Taemin smiles and covers his mouth again. “Jonginnie?”

Jongin groans, doesn’t lift his head.

“Jongin, Jonginnie, look at me.”

Jongin peeks up at Taemin finally, a little grimace on his face.

Taemin takes his hands away from his mouth and shows Jongin his smile, guesses there’s no better way to ease Jongin’s discomfort than to show his lack thereof. Jongin’s face untwists a little. His grip on his knees loosens, and his skin is still red but he looks a little less pained.

Taemin thinks about how he’ll never forget this moment.

He smiles a little wider at Jongin and says, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

-

After that, Jongin seems to get a little more comfortable in an odd way. Or a little more realized. He gives Taemin little bits and pieces as time goes on.

On Monday, he calls Taemin from backstage somewhere, a litany of other jumbled voices nearby, and asks if Taemin thinks it’s weird that his dance parts are always so sexual even though he’s never had sex.

“Does it look convincing or like I’m playing at something I don’t understand? Be honest.”

Taemin laughs. “Oh Kim Kai, believe me, you’re very convincing.”

“Okay,” Jongin concedes. “I believe you. Sometimes it just feels weird pretending so much. I don’t even want people to think I’m sexy in real life – that feels weird, but.” He trails off.

Taemin says through a smile, “But Kai is different, right?”

“Yeah. Dancing’s different.”

-

On Wednesday they’re rehearsing together for an upcoming stage and Jongin’s at his peak, sweaty and panting and constantly moving. They finish a runthrough and Jongin bends over, resting his hands on his knees, catching his breath in his arched back. He looks up with his one sided Kai grin and says, “You know, sometimes dancing makes me think I really could enjoy sex.”

Taemin almost chokes on his sip of water.

Jongin continues stretching like he never said anything at all.

-

On Thursday, Jongin tells Taemin that even the thought of being in a romantic relationship makes him physically uncomfortable. They’re walking back from a late dinner. Jongin grabs Taemin’s hand and keeps it.

His possessiveness becomes more realized. Everything becomes a little more purposeful and free.

On Friday, Jongin asks Taemin if maybe he’d be okay with them kissing. He blurts it out and then slaps a hand over his mouth like he didn’t mean to. Taemin waits and Jongin starts to stammer his way through an explanation, trying to justify what he just asked for, trying to explain himself. He talks until he starts to lose steam, starts to retract his request, and so Taemin just touches his face, puts a hand up on his cheek. Jongin quiets and composes himself.

“I mean, I still have fantasies you know? I still get excited about stuff. I’m just not attracted to people.”

Taemin nods. He knows that part.

“You’re not people,” Jongin says, a tiny bit softer.

“Aw, thanks!”

“I mean it.” Jongin’s eyes are singularly focused. “I kind of want to kiss you. I mean, kiss in general, but most people don’t know. If I kissed most people maybe they’d want something else, but I don’t want something else. I just want to try it.”

Jongin’s face is blushing but he continues. “You already know about me.” Still blushing, but he smirks. “You’re kind of my only option.”

Taemin swats his arm. “You make me feel so special,” he teases.

Jongin swats him back, but leaves his hand on Taemin’s bicep and squeezes gently. Taemin just tilts his head up in invitation.

Jongin kisses him tentatively, curious soft lips moving against Taemin’s in an irregular way, his whole body unconsciously sinking closer to Taemin’s. He stays for a few seconds, then pulls back with wide eyes and a little smile. Taemin has the incontrollable urge to thank him.

Jongin beats him to it.

-

Jongin has never been a kisser. It’s not his instinct to kiss people, he never kisses people’s cheeks or foreheads, always laughs too much during close moments for that. But he starts giving Taemin little kisses like presents. Whatever’s closest, a shoulder, his ear, the corner of his mouth.

After the incident in the practice room, which Jongin has forbidden Taemin of ever mentioning again, he’s become a little more physically open in general. Kissing aside, any little bit of reservation in Jongin’s touches with Taemin is gone. It’s all out in the open now; Taemin has seen him at his most embarrassed, his most unguarded, his most unusual. There’s nothing left to hide.

Taemin doesn’t ever want him to hide.

He encourages Jongin’s openness however he can. He reciprocates every touch deliberately and never asks questions and doesn’t bring up the practice room even though he holds it sort of reverently in his memory. He receives Jongin’s kisses and gives them back equally, not wanting to push Jongin’s boundaries too far.

It becomes a little bit sexual. In an odd way, but it does. It becomes about comfort and curiosity and a physicality that Jongin has never experienced before.

"I’m curious,” Jongin says one day.

"What do you mean?” Taemin tilts his head.

Jongin can be startlingly direct once he weaves his way past unsureness into knowing what he wants.

"You’re my best friend and I’m curious about stuff. I want to explore. Will you let me?"

Taemin almost loses his breath completely.

"Yes. Yeah, Jonginnie, whatever you want."

Jongin approaches him, slightly cautious still.

"Please?" Taemin asks.

-

Jongin has Taemin spread out beneath him, shirtless, warm. Jongin’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, soft straddling Taemin’s covered thighs.

It’s been a good half an hour now, of Jongin sitting on top of him, just touching him. Tracing and pinching around Taemin’s collarbone, carefully feeling the whole shape of the bone before moving on, massaging his shoulder gently and petting over the curve of his bicep. He even plays with Taemin’s nipples for a moment, giggling through it before moving on to stroke down and over his stomach, alternating between firm touches and feather-light fingers brushing over the fine hairs sticking up all over Taemin’s abdomen. He touches Taemin’s face again when he's done with his chest. Traces a slightly sticking finger across his lips, moves his skin around. Taemin can't help but smile against his fingers.

Taemin tries to check himself at first.

Not wanting to scare Jongin away or make him feel out of his depth, he holds back most of his instinctual sighs and sounds, tries not to more his hips at all. Doesn’t want Jongin to think that Taemin wants anything from him that he isn’t willing to give.

Every so often, though, a little moan will escape from Taemin’s throat despite his efforts or he’ll shift under Jongin. Taemin takes note of how Jongin reacts to each of his reactions, furrowing his brow or biting his lip when Taemin lets his guard go. Taemin sighs, eyes fluttering shut, and Jongin’s eyes widen in turn, a surprised hint of a smile on his face like he can't believe his touch is doing this. Jongin touches Taemin’s hip and Taemin moans quietly again. Jongin smiles.

It’s all the encouragement Taemin needs to let go. He stops holding himself back, just lets himself respond to Jongin’s attention the way his body wants to. It opens up a new level between them, Jongin playing with Taemin’s reactions. Taemin will moan, and Jongin will do whatever it was again, smirking a little as he watches Taemin come a little apart.

Jongin’s still sitting on Taemin’s hips, and he either doesn’t notice how hard Taemin is in his jeans or he doesn’t care. Taemin can’t move at all with Jongin’s weight on him, but he doesn’t mind. There’s no end goal here, he just wants Jongin to keep touching him, just wants Jongin’s cool, long fingers on his skin. He doesn’t need anything else from this.

Eventually the touches slow and Jongin moves to lie next to him, head pillowed on his own arm, the other resting in the dip of Taemin’s waist. They only kiss then.

“I still don't want to have sex with you," Jongin says a little apologetically, the next day.

Taemin just laughs. He couldn't be happier right now, he thinks, even if he tried

-

Nothing changes.

Everything changes, because now whenever they see each other this is part of it. But nothing changes in their relationship at its most fundamental, nothing about them has to be reconfigured, they’ve just added to the structure. There’s another wing now, but their architecture is the same.

What is surprising is how far Jongin goes sometimes. Sometimes he gets that glint in his eye like there are stage lights on him when there aren’t. He gets that Kai smirk on his mouth, sometimes, and he’ll bite Taemin hard, tug on his bottom lip. He gets the dancing roll in his hips and sometimes he’ll move them against Taemin’s, let Taemin feel that he’s hard. Occasionally he’ll even reach to rub his hand over Taemin’s cock through his pants without giggling, will put a little bit of purpose in his grip before moving away.

He slips into character and it’s weird because it’s not Jongin, not completely, but Taemin has always been attracted to the character that Jongin is when he dances and he’s so, so attracted to Jongin like this.

It doesn’t always last long. Sometimes Jongin stops halfway through, comes back to himself a little, enough to realize what he’s doing and get slightly uncomfortable. Taemin just smiles at him as his touches gentle to let him know that it’s okay. He will take whatever Jongin is willing to give.

Sometimes things end in sleep if they drag on too long or they get too relaxed with it, end up sprawled out in an impromptu nap. Sometimes Jongin will leave, or Taemin will leave and lock himself in the bathroom for a few minutes while Jongin cools down outside.

Once, Jongin grabs his wrist as he’s leaving the room, walking awkwardly, and looks at him a little nervous, a little wide-eyed, a lot curious.

“You can stay, if you want?” he says like a question.

Taemin puts a hand over his mouth; his breath catches and it takes him a second to clear his throat and ask “Are you sure?”

Jongin sits down cross-legged a couple feet away and watches as Taemin lays himself carefully back down and unzips his pants. Taemin keeps his eyes on Jongin’s face, watching for uncertainty or uncomfort or regret, but he doesn’t see any. Taemin can’t find it in himself to be shy.

Jongin bites his bottom lip and his darkened eyes skip all around Taemin’s body. His face, his sweaty skin, his hand as he strokes himself off slowly.

Taemin comes with a cry and Jongin moans, quieter, with him.

-

It becomes habitual that they check in with each other periodically. Because they do want different things, they do identify in different ways; they do a little tide mapping. A lot of keeping up. Taemin asks Jongin about his comfort levels on a moment-to-moment basis, because he can’t always tell just from reading Jongin’s face. They spend more time together now than they ever have.

Tonight, they’re lying next to each other on the studio floor.

This time, though, it’s not because they think that they have to, It’s not because they don’t know better. It’s because they want to. There’s something sort of nice and quiet about it now, their heels tapping on the cold floor together, hands tangled in the few inches of space between them.

Jongin hauls Taemin’s hand up to kiss his palm twice before putting it back down.

They’re level, though their levels are different. Sometimes Jongin does such typically romantic things that Taemin draws back a little, unsure, because what Taemin considers to be romantic Jongin doesn’t. Or doesn’t consider romantic enough to recoil from.

Jongin does things like this and Taemin gets that little feeling in his stomach. It feels like something Jongin doesn’t intend, but it’s natural for Jongin. The way he naturally is with Taemin is keeps Taemin smiling and in awe, the way he almost has been since they met.

Taemin matches Jongin’s gesture. So far that’s all he’s needed to do.

It’s late, but they don’t move except to push their stretching mats together so that Jongin can drape himself over Taemin from the side, a solid weight. It’s a warm night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> pls feel free to talk to me about any stuff @ goldminegoldmine on tumblr!


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